


i knew you were trouble when you walked in

by notcaycepollard



Series: I Knew You Were Trouble [1]
Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: Domestic Fluff, F/M, Fitz and his dang monkey, Fluff, Fluff and Crack, Gen, I can't turn them off, seriously, sneaky Skoulson feelings, the fluffiest, the fluffiest of all fluff fics, this damn cat
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-29
Updated: 2015-07-29
Packaged: 2018-04-11 21:06:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,655
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4452374
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/notcaycepollard/pseuds/notcaycepollard
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>five places in SHIELD where kittens are not allowed to be (and one where they're alright)</p><p> </p><p>The team adopts a kitten.</p><p>Coulson knows this is a terrible idea.</p>
            </blockquote>





	i knew you were trouble when you walked in

**Author's Note:**

  * For [AMidnightVoyage](https://archiveofourown.org/users/AMidnightVoyage/gifts), [shortitude](https://archiveofourown.org/users/shortitude/gifts), [Persiflage](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Persiflage/gifts), [BrilliantlyHorrid](https://archiveofourown.org/users/BrilliantlyHorrid/gifts), [Skyepilot](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Skyepilot/gifts).



> idek, this happened, and then it happened some more.

It's Skye who does it, of course.

The team are sitting around the lounge, having a well-deserved post-mission beer, when Fitz leans curiously back and looks at her.

"Skyyyyyyeeeee, why did you just meep?" She laughs, takes a sip of beer.

"I have no idea what you're talking about, dude."

"You DID! You meeped! I heard it! A cute little meeping sound! Do you have a tiny monkey? Did you get me a tiny monkey after all this time?"

Simmons turns her attention to Skye, gazing at her thoughtfully. "Now that you mention it, Fitz, I do hear a certain squeaking. How odd. If it's _not_ a tiny monkey perhaps we should run some tests." Skye laughs again.

"Alright, alright, no tests, I capitulate." She pulls her collar open, unzips her jacket. A tiny, fuzzy head pops out. Jemma goes into immediate raptures.

"Aooouuwwwww she's just _darling_  isn't she? Skye, can I have a, you know, a cuddle?" Skye grins and pries the kitten out of ( _not_ her cleavage, Coulson thinks, carefully) and passes her over to Jemma. Fitz leans in to scratch the little cat's head.

"Who's a Mister Fuzzy Face? Ooh, you are, aren't you! Hello, Mister Fluffy Trousers!"

"Skye," says Coulson carefully, "where exactly did Mister Fluffy Trousers come from?"

"Picked him up just after May dropped me off. He ran right up to me, poor little guy, we couldn't just leave him there."

"He probably has a home," Coulson says, feeling like this might spiral out of control. "He probably has _owners_ , Skye. You can't just steal a kitten because he looked cute and friendly."

"Coulsooooon," she replies, rolling her eyes. "The drop point was ten miles out of town. He has no collar and look at how thin the little guy is! We already fed him up on the plane, May suggested a bit of watered down protein powder until we can get some kitten food." Coulson casts an outraged (disapproving, not outraged) face at May. She smirks back at him.

"Cat needed a home, Phil. And I don't see you turning away waifs and strays."

He sighs. "Well, I still don't think it's a great idea," he says. Skye turns puppy-dog eyes on him.

"Please, Coulson? He doesn't have a home. He's a little orphan cat with nobody in the world for his family." _Just like me_ , is the unspoken addendum to her sentence, and although she doesn't say it because she's a better person than that, he can hear it just the same.

"Okay, okay, we're a democratic organization," he capitulates. "Show of hands, I guess." Fitzsimmons and Skye shoot their hands into the air. May smiles, raises a hand, and Mack, chuckling, does the same.

"Bobbi, Hunter," he calls to the others. "Better get your asses in here and vote on this extremely important team issue." There's a pause, and then Bobbi and Hunter appear in the doorway, looking extremely, suspiciously nonchalant and not at all like they've just been furiously making out in the kitchen. Hunter narrows his eyes.

"Is that a  _kitten_? No. No way. I will quit this team, Coulson, you have  _no right_."

"What do you have against Mr Fluffy Trousers?" demands Jemma, looking affronted. "Don't listen to the nasty man, sweetheart, he's just full of lies, isn't he, just full of lies."

"It's not- I'm not full of  _lies_ , I just don't like cats!" Hunter protests. "It's creepy, innit. Staring at you with their big stupid eyes." Mack coughs.

"Bobbi's a bit of a cat fanatic," he explains to the others. "Drove Hunter mad, once upon a time. She had a whole house full of 'em, didn't you Bob?" Bobbi nods. Her eyes are fixed on the kitten a little too intently for Coulson's liking.

"Sorry, Hunter," Coulson says. "We're outnumbered. Mr Fluffy Trousers is here to stay, on one condition. No kittens in my office. Also, you _have_ to pick another name."

 

***

 

Picking a name for the kitten proves difficult. The team votes comfortably against one suggestion: Hunter's.

"You are  _not_ naming that adorably tiny kitten Ward because he is  _not a secret Nazi_ who tried to  _kill Fitzsimmons_ and also  _kidnapped me_ ," says Bobbi, with what Coulson thinks is remarkable restraint. Hunter scowls.

"Alright, alright, just keep him out of my bunk. I got into bed last night and when I woke up there was a cat right on my chest. Just staring at me. Staring! It's not natural, I'm telling you."

"Shut your door properly and you won't have a cat staring at you when you sleep," sighs Coulson. "Anyway, I don't think cats should really be allowed in your bunks." There's general outcry, Skye and Simmons leading the charge in protest. "Okay, okay. No kittens in Hunter's bunk. Fair?"

Already, he privately thinks of the cat as That Mistake I Made, or This Is Why My Team Is So Unprofessional for short.

 

***

 

Coulson's in the lab, checking that the last of the damage from Cal's rampage has been repaired, when, in the corner of his eye, he catches a glimpse of a fluffy little tail parading across the floor.

"No kittens in the lab," he says sternly. Fitz and Simmons both pipe up. 

"Oh but sir, he really seems to like-"

"-playing in here, and I think it's a good learning opportunity for her to-"

"-be around science, and generally get a mentorship as he grows up!"

"Fitz," Coulson asks, "what exactly are you working on, in this lab, right now?"

"I'm working with some readings off Skye's powers, to see if I could modify the ICER technology to create a weapon that would amplify and target her quake abilities," Fitz says helpfully. Behind him, the tech begins to vibrate wildly, shaking around on his workbench until it falls, suddenly, to the floor. "Oops, that - that wasn't supposed to happen, I obviously need to, ah, calibrate it better," he adds, frowning.

"Simmons," Coulson asks hopefully. "What are  _you_ working on?"

"I'm trying to synthesise the Terrigen crystals into a formula that will interact more predictably with DNA, sir," she replies. "That way we could understand what powers someone was likely to develop, before they go through the change."

"Okay," Coulson replies. "What would happen if, say, a certain kitten knocked over a test tube of your new formula and walked in it?"

"Ooooh, that's an interesting one! We really just don't know enough about how the crystals interact with non-human DNA! It could be nothing, or Lucy-"

" _Mr Pouncy,_ " Fitz interjects.

" _Lucy_ could develop the first cross feline-Inhuman powers! She could develop superpowers! A cat with superpowers! Haha! Oh my, that  _is_ quite exciting."

"He could develop tiny little hands," Fitz adds. "He wouldn't be as good as a monkey, but a cat with tiny adorable little hands could be quite useful, in some situations."

Coulson thinks they're both a bit too excited about this. "No kittens in the lab," he says again, firmly, and if he scoops up Lucy (or Mr Pouncy) and tucks him into the crook of his arm as he leaves, it's just to make sure he's safe, that's all.

 

***

 

"I think we should name him Scrapper," Mack suggests, watching the still-unnamed kitten chase a feather tied to a piece of string. "Look at him. Such a little fighter, what a guy. Yeah, you like chasing that, doncha? Yeah?" 

"Oh, where's he been?" Skye says curiously. "I looked for him for ages and couldn't find him." She's stirring a pot of mac and cheese, and takes it off the heat while she pours more kibble into the bowl in the corner of the kitchen. (Coulson tries really hard not to have any feelings about how beautifully domestic a scene it is.)

"Found him down in the storage vault," Mack replies. "Went down on my regular round, he was curled up asleep, right up against the base of that weird-ass stone thing. Guess it was warm."

"Was the door  _quite_ sealed," Simmons asks somewhat nervously. Coulson appreciates her concern. She hadn't been trapped for long, but it wasn't exactly a fun time. _  
_

"Yeah, don't you worry, it was locked up nice and tight."

"Still, though," Coulson says. "Probably no kittens in the room with the scary thousand-year-old alien artifacts that have a habit of temporarily eating people."

"Word," Mack agrees, and flicks the feather-onna-stick again for the kitten to jump on and attack.

 

***

 

They're on the Quinjet in the middle of flying out to a  _somewhat urgent_ mission. Coulson is literally in the middle of his briefing. Agent Weaver is patched in, because the council have decided transparency means "listening to every mission briefing, in case Coulson gets any off-plan ideas".

" _Ugh_ ," Hunter exclaims. "Fucks  _sake_ , there's cat hair all over my damn tactical gear."

There've been better times to be interrupted, Coulson thinks. He loves his team, he loves his team, he would  _really love_ if his team didn't interrupt every damn briefing.

"There wouldn't be cat hair on your tactical gear if you put it away in the gear cupboard and didn't leave it out for the cat to sleep on," he replies blandly. Hunter huffs in irritation.

"There's  _always_ cat hair on my tactical gear, sir. It's Bobbi. She thinks it's  _funny_ to encourage that damn cat to sleep in the gear cupboard." Coulson slides a look at Bobbi. She smirks. She can't join them on mission - her knee's not right, yet, and Simmons is clearly not sure it'll ever be right - but he's not going to make Bobbi sit alone on base while they fly out. She's getting pretty great at being his joint remote response unit.

"He likes it in there, what can I say. It's warm and quiet and he's a cute little guy, I just think Hunter's threatened by another male presence in my life."

"Another male- it's just the  _cat hair_! It's _everywhere_! It's not good for the _Velcro_ , Bobbi, for fucks sake!"

"No kittens in the gear cupboard," Coulson says. "Not even if you think it's funny, Bobbi. Now, can I actually give a briefing on the  _actual mission_ we are about to start?"

(He thinks it's pretty funny, actually. He might have encouraged the kitten to sleep on Hunter's tactical gear. And sweaters. And bunk. Once or twice.)

 

***

 

It's not that he's  _nervous_ , exactly. Skye's been on Caterpillar missions before. She's always come back. She's usually not even a tiny bit injured. There's no need for him to sit up late like this waiting for her return. He's being ridiculous.

Okay, so he is a bit nervous. But she's his best agent, and his strong right hand (he snorts) and also a bona fide superhero, so it's normal to be anxious. 

He thinks maybe a cup of cocoa might help.

He heads down to the kitchen, puts Simmons' electric kettle on. He's gotten pretty good at working one-handed, actually, and the team have helped. Yes, Fitz's inventions maybe did not  _help_ as much as he had hoped, but the thought was touching. He said no to the assistance monkey, though.

When he sits down on the couch, he realises the kitten was asleep next to him but has woken up at the couch shifting under his weight. He reaches out, gives it a scritch under the chin. The kitten sits up, yawns widely, and jumps up onto his lap.

He shifts it carefully off his lap and back onto the couch.

The kitten jumps up onto his lap again.

He sighs, gives up, gives it another scritch. The kitten kneads his thighs with tiny paws, headbutts his knee, then climbs intrepidly up over his elbow and down into the crook of his sling. It settles very comfortably along his arm, resting its little head on its paws.

Coulson sips his cocoa, and pointedly ignores it. The kitten mews, squeakily.

He puts his mug down. Gently pets the kitten between the ears. It begins to purr, very loudly. He stops petting. It mews. He pets. It settles, looking like the most contented kitten in the entire wide world. He drinks his cocoa, and totally does not enjoy the warmth of the cat asleep in his arms.

When Skye gets home, she comes in so quietly he doesn't even hear her at first. So maybe he's gazing down at the little kitten, gently stroking him. He's allowed. Skye makes an amused noise, and he looks up to see her leaning in the doorway, a look on her face he can't quite decipher.

"No kittens sleeping in the Director's sling?" she asks, her lips quirking up at the corners.

"Kittens can  _probably_ sleep in the Director's sling," he replies. "It's not off limits. For certain kittens." She crosses over to him, pulling off her bulletproof vest and dropping it on the floor. She's got a flannel shirt in one hand that she tugs on instead, sighing with relief.

"Mission go well?"

"Well, it didn't go _badly_ ," she says, curling up next to him and taking a big bite of a chocolate bar. "And Fitz's modified ICER does seem to work pretty well, though there are a few tweaks I want made. I'll let him know in the morning. I should head to bed, I'm exhausted." Coulson should be grossed out by her talking with her mouth full. He's not. He's totally not.

"Director," she says, after a beat, "you're a total soft touch." He grins. She's not wrong.

"You know me," he offers. "Waifs and strays. I've got a place in my heart for them."

"And little orphan cats?" 

"And little orphan cats," he agrees, looking down at her. Her hair is loose from its plait, and her shirt is hanging off one shoulder, and she's got a smudge of chocolate on her cheek by the corner of her mouth. She's the most beautiful thing Coulson has ever, ever seen.

"I should, uh, get to bed," he says quickly, standing up. Skye stands up too, and somehow he thinks she's disappointed.

"Here, let me take this little guy off you. He likes to sleep on my feet, you know." She scoops the kitten out of his arms, tucks it against her chest. 

"You did good, you know," he tells her, because it's true. "Adopting something because he's lost and alone. You made the right call." He smiles at her, rubs the chocolate from her cheek with his thumb, and then without warning Skye's kissing him, her mouth warm on his. 

"I'm crazy about you," she says, pulling back. "About you, and your soft touch, and the way you look at me. It makes me crazy." She kisses him again, and he pulls her closer, because this is unexpected and also the best thing. There's a squeaky little meep, and Skye laughs.

"I really do have to go to bed," she says, yawning. "But. Later?"

"Later," he agrees. He can taste chocolate.

 

***

 

It's also Skye who names the kitten, of course. They're all in the lounge, having a drink and watching the kitten bounce around the floor chasing one of Fitz's dwarves, and Coulson suggests that the kitten really does need a name, because it's been a month and it's getting ridiculous. Everyone's stupidly divided. Even May has a suggestion, although Coulson is not entirely sure that she's serious about naming the kitten Director Fury. The team's just getting to the point of actual argument, when Skye takes a long pull from her beer.

"He's obviously Captain America, right? Cap for short."

"Care to explain?" Coulson asks, because it's not actually obvious. He's not really sure where Skye is going with this.

"I caught Coulson watching him sleep, last night. I hear Coulson  _does that_ ," she says, sly, and casts him a cheeky look as everyone dissolves in laughter.

The kitten is named, unanimously, Captain America. Coulson knew it was a terrible idea.

(It was also the best idea.)


End file.
